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Upon awakening to the ringing breakfast bell, I immediately knew something was wrong. Call it intuition, or instincts, or just a hunch, but I knew at that moment, the world was not in order.
I rose out of bed and looked out the window of the room I accommodated at Stagecoach Trails Guest Ranch; another sunny day. After pulling on a t-shirt, jeans and shoes, I walked outside.

In spite of my "intuition," I grinned as the cool desert breeze swept over me and began the short, hundred foot walk to the community dining room.
As I entered, I quickly noticed all the guests eating and the staff huddled in a circle. Not normal.
Trying to maintain a smile, I made my way towards the ranch owner and long-time friend, Carrie Rynders.
When I finally reached Carrie, she looked to me like someone who had recently lost a loved one. I was half right about that. She had lost more than one.

*

"Three horses?" I exclaimed in shocked surprise.
"Keep your voice down Iam," Carrie shushed me, "I don't want the other guests to hear about this just yet."
"Sorry ma'am, but gone? Disappeared? Without a trace?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Why? I mean, who would do something like that?"
"That's what we're trying to figure out Iam. Now in the meantime, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel rides today. I'm scared for their lives."
"But Carrie, isn't it possible that the gate wasn't closed properly?" I said, already knowing the answer.
"Iam, you know just as well as I do, that couldn't have happened. I myself check the gate every night."
"Yeah, I guess."
"Listen," I stated, "I really want to help with this, is there anything I can do?"
"Well," she hesitated, "I really don't want to point fingers, but there is some crazy British guy building a store up the road a bit. Maybe you can see if he knows anything?"
"Absolutely, I know how much you love those horses. I'll be back in a bit."
"Iam?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful."
"As careful as I can." And with that, I left.

*

Before leaving the dining hall, I grabbed a few slices of ham which I ate as I started down the long driveway. At the end, I took a right and began walking towards the store.
>From what I'd heard, there was one man building the store by himself, and he was going to sell gothic furniture. That's right, gothic furniture. But hey, the guy was British, you can't really blame him. As for his name, if I can remember correctly it was Pomroy. Not a very British name but that doesn't matter, I had a feeling he knew something.
I followed the road to the half-built store and walked through

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